


Sleeping with Steve

by Inalltheglory



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Stony - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3736825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inalltheglory/pseuds/Inalltheglory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There might need to be rules when you're sleeping with Steve Rogers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping with Steve

               They knew, when they started this new endeavor, that it was going to lead to great things. What they hadn’t accounted for was the bad things. The funny thing about sleeping is that you are unguarded. Even the most closed off person when they sleep, reveals something about them. This is because when you are sleeping your masks peel away, your walls crumble and you are vulnerable whether or not you choose to be so. As such, for two men with a lot of walls, masks, and locked away secrets, they hadn’t thought about the bad things when they slept together.

               Platonically, Tony reminded himself. When they had first woken up with each other in the same bed, it had been quite the shock. Not the actual physical state of sleeping beside one of his teammates, his friends, but the fact that they had both had the idea sober. Tony had made less stupid decisions drunk. Sleeping together, in the same bed, but no touching, kissing, no promise of a relationship or sex, was just downright odd. Not that Steve had any ideas about anything, much to Tony’s dismay. Likely, this was a good deed to him; a service. This was just Steve Rogers being a good friend with no intentions of anything else happening.

               That’s why, the first time they had woken up together in a tangle of limbs, was so surprising. For the first two weeks, they had awkwardly danced around one another trying to avoid stepping on any toes and creating any discomforts. Tony wore sweatpants and a t-shirt, despite normally sleeping in only his underwear. He even tried to mask the glow of the arc reactor, worried that it would keep Steve awake. Thankfully, after sweating out terribly, Steve assured him the light didn’t bother him. Steve, meanwhile, balanced on the edge of the bed precariously and laid stiff as a board, not moving until he woke again. There was a good two feet of space between them when they slept, and after the first nights of their minds and bodies getting comfortable with other presences, they began to struggle sleeping again. The empty area between them was cold and lonely, and neither one spoke. They had also restricted themselves from moving, which meant neither one allowed their bodies to toss and turn until they were comfortable.

               So when Tony woke up one morning, unusually warm and having slept fantastically his stomach dropped like someone had poured lead into it. He pried his eyes open, hoping, wishing, he was dreaming. Yet, Steve’s head was tilted back on his shoulder, blond tresses feathering over the other man’s jaw. Tony’s arms were locked securely over the larger man’s waist and Steve’s hand resting over his own. Their legs were tangled together so that they pressed into one another, not an inch of wasted space between them. Tony’s shirt had somehow mysteriously disappeared and their position _, ‘We’re fucking_ spooning _, for Christ sake’_ was going to be a very big problem unless Tony figured out a way to calm down before Steve woke up.

               Not that there was really much to be done in the situation. They had wound themselves so close together and around each other that Tony could not move without waking Steve. He was already a light sleeper and it was well past the time for him to have woken and gone to the gym. Tony bit his tongue, trying to get his anatomy to cooperate, but Steve’s ass was pressing firmly on his groin, providing wonderful pressure against the erection. _‘Ok, easy, baseball, dad, working on the armor, Fury’s crazy eye, Pepper yelling, Rhodey yelling, Clint-‘_ Steve groaned and moved underneath his hands and Tony bit into his mouth until the iron taste of blood formed. _‘Shit, that’s just not helping things!’_ He cursed Steve mentally. _‘Dear God, man, sleep in for once in your life. You’ll save us both from the humiliation.’_ Tony pled, but Steve drew in a long breath and it caught in his chest, a sure sign he was awake. The blond held that breath for what seemed like ages until he spoke,

               “Tony?”

               “Morning. Sleep well? Warm enough?” _‘Yes, good, Stark, keep it casual. I’m sure he hasn’t noticed.’_ Steve jerked away, pulling the comforter around his body as he slid off the bed and fell to the floor. He stood up, eyes wide and cheeks rosy, the blanket covering him entirely. _‘Maybe he didn’t notice I’m popping out of my pants.’_

               “What-What the hell, _Tony_?!” He yelled, face now bright red and his voice pitching high. _‘Nah, he noticed. Abort, abort!’_

               “Well, bye!” Tony rolled off his side of the bed, tuning everything out and trying to keep his ‘situation’ as discreet as possible as he shuffled out the door and into the elevator. By the time he got back to the workshop he had righted himself. “JARVIS, lock everyone out. Just me today.” He shook his head clear of morning wood fog.

               “Of course, Sir. Is everything alright?” The AI crooned curiously in the workshop. DUM-E, You and Butterfingers whirled excitedly with Tony’s presence.

               “Yeah, yeah I’m just peachy J. Not that I just violated my friend and disgraced myself, nope. Life is great today.”

               “I wasn’t aware you had any grace left to lose, Sir.” JARVIS spoke with humor in the back of his tone.

               “Thanks, J, laugh it up. Pull up last night’s footage from Steve’s bedroom.” Tony sat at his station with the monitors lit up. “Gimme a time lapse.” The video sped, showing each man turning down for bed and falling asleep, remaining still for the first two hours, and then there was movement. “Rewind that and give me real time.” Dear God, there had better be an explanation for this. Please, let there be a logical explanation to this problem. The video played and it was silent, still, until Steve started to murmur beside him and move a bit. This went on for a few minutes until he let out a large sigh and spoke clearly.

               “Fuck it.” He rolled around and flopped his body to take advantage of the unused space on the bed. He spread out his limbs and relaxed, an exhalation of relief escaping him. Then beside him, Tony squirmed and sat up, removing his t-shirt. He laid back down, however his extra pillow had fell off the bed in the process. Normally not a big problem, but Tony had an unfortunate attachment to snuggling things when he slept. He yelled at the monitor as he watched the Tony from the recording fumble around for something to cling to. As it happened, Steve was the first thing he came into contact with.

               “Don’t do it, don’t you do it.” Tony rolled over and snaked his hands around Steve, who only smiled dopily as he slept and leaned into the grasping hands over him. They both wiggled close and hummed low noises of content as they settled. “You fucking moron.” Tony slapped a hand over his face. Not really a sensible way to explain things other than, “Gee Steve, I’m sorry but I cuddle in my sleep and you were there! No don’t worry, actually, you joined me willingly!” He sang it out sarcastically to the bots that had gathered around him.

He looked at DUM-E, wires frayed out below him. He needed some work as he wasn’t aging well at this point. “DUM-E, I can’t be trusted around attractive people. If they’re not having sex with me, I, apparently, cannot control myself and end up dry humping them in my sleep!” He threw his hands into the air but the bot only stared at him, unsure how to help. “J, hit the music. Let’s get you fixed up, DUM-E. Ah, ah, just-stay there. I’ll come to you.” The music flipped on and Tony looked up in annoyance with JARVIS. “Really? ‘Sink the Pink’, that’s the song I need right now?” There was knocking at the shop doors and Tony dipped down to look at DUM-E’s undercarriage. “I’m not home, JARVIS.” He reminded the AI while he examined the mess of wires, circuits, and broken bits below the bot. Regardless, the speakers projected the voice.

“Tony, I know you’re in there. I can hear your music so just let me in there. I brought down breakfast, now tell JARVIS to let me in.” Silence. JARVIS spoke then,

“Sir…” He broke the tension hesitantly.

“JARVIS.” The program sighed. A few minutes later he spoke again.

“Captain Rogers has left breakfast at the door, Sir.”

“You, go grab that and don’t spill one bit of it or I’ll let Butterfingers disassemble you and put you back together as he sees fit.” Tony spoke through a screwdriver in his mouth and the bot returned a moment later with a mug of coffee and a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. The music changed and he grabbed the screwdriver to yell one more time at JARVIS. “’Go down’? You keep playing suggestive music, J, so help me…”

***

Tony stayed working in the lab late into the evening, when it was close to being time to retire to bed. Steve had come down multiple times attempting to coax him out with offerings of lunch, dinner, and threats of a kick to the ass. Tony finally let JARVIS unlock the doors at about 10 but Steve hadn’t come down again to check on him. He had powered through multiple projects throughout the day to keep his mind occupied, and was quite pleased with himself. Even if Steve came to hold awkward conversation, he was so giddy with ingenuity he could have cared less. Finally, close to midnight, Steve entered, sketchpad in hand and face looking exceptionally worn for the man. The music lowered a bit and Tony poked his head up from his design table, frowning.

“Don’t turn down my music, you people always turn down my music. It’s rude, you know. My workshop, my music.” He paused. “Well not my music today.” ‘Tell me something good’ started to crank through the speakers suggestively. Steve made a face at the song. “JARVIS is in a mood today. I offered to program him a lady friend to talk dirty to, but last time I did that, Butterfingers happened so we’re just staying away from that all together.” Steve nodded, not totally listening, and shuffled his feet by the table, seeming unsure of what to say. “I fixed your bike, it should vibrate less when you’re moving fast, so you’ll have more stability and your hands won’t go numb anymore.” Tony spoke, eager to just stay away from unnecessary words.

“Tony, I’m sorry about this morning. It was my fault, and it won’t happen-“

“Whoa, hold on, _your_ fault? So, you wrapped my arms around you in a death grip? Because I’ve got to say, that’s kind of impressive, Rogers.” Tony moved away from his design table. “I did it, and I have the tape to prove it, so don’t worry about it. If it bothers you I’ll stay away.” Steve’s brows shot up into his hairline.

“Bothers me? _God_ no!” He spoke incredulously and Tony didn’t miss the emphasis. He scrambled to a recovery. “I mean, I slept damn well. If it makes you uncomfortable, by all means. But…It was weirder sleeping on opposite sides of the bed, if I’m honest.” Tony just stared at him, unsure what to make of this unusual turn of events. He had thought Steve would have been mortified by this type of affection from another man. He was, after all, from a different time; a much more conservative time. “I’m not saying we should…that it should be a regular thing, but,” he swallowed “I’m not sorry it happened.” His eyes hooked onto Tony’s. The brunette sighed.

“Just go to bed, you big lug. You’re damn lucky you woke up with your clothes on. It’s been known to happen.” Steve eyes relaxed and he gave a crooked grin that warmed Tony from the inside out.

“Probably because I’m not some leggy dame.” Tony chuckled. _‘Yeah, sure thing, you keep believing that.’_ He felt a pang of guilt. He wasn’t taking advantage of Steve, was he? “You know you never got a bed down here.” Steve said, slightly disappointed that he couldn’t stay in the lab. Tony rolled his eyes and punched a code into one of his toolboxes. A wall slid aside to reveal a separate room. Steve was floored for a moment until he realized, “Is this where you go when we can’t find you?” Tony shrugged.

“Potentially. It’s just a panic room, supposed to be used for emergencies. Sometimes I go in there for a nap though.” Steve sat on the bed and turned his sketchpad open. Tony quirked his brow and turned back to his work.

“Not going to bed?” Steve shrugged.

“Not yet. Just need to finish this one up, and then I’ll sleep.” ‘Sexy Thing’ played loud and Steve looked up from the paper. Tony shrugged.

“This one actually is mine. Guilty pleasure song.” He swirled his hips to the music and wagged his eyebrows before turning back to his station, still dancing. Steve broke out in rolling laughter.

“You’re something else, Stark.” Tony threw a pencil his way, but smiled.

“You know it, baby!”

Only an hour later, with the music turned low now, Steve finally put his drawings away, fell asleep and Tony forced himself to put a pin in his work for the night. He sunk into the bed and closed the wall. God forbid anyone else find about the room. Steve hadn’t spread out yet like last night, but also didn’t hug the edge of the bed, which was good. Tony laid down with a sigh and got comfortable, waiting to drift slowly to sleep. He heard Steve shudder next to him and he opened his eyes to check on him. His whole body was tensed as though in a seizure and he held his breath, for far too long. Tony placed a hand on him to wake him and regretted it immediately. He took a full force Captain America punch to the stomach and was thrown into the wall. And that was when the most important rule of sleeping together was decided; go to sleep together or not at all.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of Steve's Schedule


End file.
